


"Leave your clothes on."

by korik



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Angry Kissing, Foreplay, Grinding, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Violent foreplay, how do tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:25:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korik/pseuds/korik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt from tumblr; A/U where Vayne is still alive</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Leave your clothes on."

The taller of the two blinked, stared,  _leered_ , his mouth curling with a customary sound - “Don’t tell me - you’ve become a prude since last I laid eyes on you?”

The longer haired man  _laughed_ , a deep sound emitting from his throat as his teeth clipped into the flushed lip, a gloved hand smearing a hint of oil from the paler cheek. “On the contrary, I endorse a healthy imagination as to your flesh’s wiry state beneath the raiment you choose,  _Pirate_.”

The brunette hissed against the tug, struggling to keep his balance with the leg nosing between his thighs, and the air firm in his lungs. “Is not the mind’s eye to see fit to  _lie_  - ”

Vayne’s voice pinched as Balthier choked on a scream caught in his mouth on the other’s fingers, edged in softness, plucking at the delicate shirt with the other hand, fabric quick to bunch, “Is  _this_  a lie, then,  _Bunansa_?” His teeth left paths of  _sting_ , but he was sure to taste cloves and  _madhu_  sweet and sour, their fumbled attempts to pretend not to notice one another within the confines of the Strahl with the lingering fumes adding to the layers they already wore.

His head bowed, he tried to fight,  _tangle_  back, a slipshod operation where the captain’s chair  _bent_ ,  _screeched,_  the arch of his hips, defiant calf and knee to hook about the shorter one’s waist, glimmering green eyes beneath heavy lids venom. Snapping his teeth on the ruminating fingers, he spoke as they fled. "You’ll take utmost care of my  _ship_ , I trust,  _silver-serpent_?“

Vayne’s head canted, pale eyes by contrast unassuming, easy grace and amenable - the implication was  _firm_  despite the hesitance, the unease of the grounds they pretended to stand on. “A ship deserves but the care with which is was built - ”

The Solidor buckled, collapsing against metal and his hands burned, the reinforced frame of the Lady eliciting stars in his brain, but these were not nearly as poignant as the divider carving assured red lines into his back, ripping the hand stitched overcoat - as slender, artisan hands with the exposed pale wrists knotting their fingers around his throat.

“Your  _word._ ”

His lip curled back and, with a cough, a smile contorted the lines of his mouth. “Have it, ‘tis all you’ve yet to take from me.” When the fingers relaxed, and supplicating lips found his own, he murmured, “Forget not _your_ word, then, to leave them on.”


End file.
